


Think of the TV show

by Graysongirl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Alternate Universe - Human, Everyone Is Gay, Human Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Human Vox (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, Mentioned Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) - Freeform, Mentioned Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Vox Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Vox doesn't deserve sympathy, Vox is a Brat (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is basically Justin Bieber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graysongirl/pseuds/Graysongirl
Summary: A hidden chapter tribute to Pmastamonkmonk's pop star AU fic "It's a little off the wall". Valentino goes to visit Vox with a proposition to help the singer boost some ratings and get the TV show that he's always dreamed of. The catch? He has to get back together with the volatile Angel Dust after they had a very loud, very public break up.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino & Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Think of the TV show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pmastamonkmonk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmastamonkmonk/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It's a Little Off The Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797583) by [pmastamonkmonk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmastamonkmonk/pseuds/pmastamonkmonk). 



> So I have been absolutely loving Pmastamonkmonk's fic and when they posted their most recent chapter I just knew I had to write something behind the scenes starring Val and Vox! I love my two evil overlords and just can't get enough of writing them being assholes so, thank you very much Pmastamonkmonk and I hope you, and everyone else, enjoys my take. 
> 
> This is set end of chapter 8 and during chapter 9 up until the night of the final show.

Vox draped himself back on the sofa in the lavishly expensive hotel suite, scrolling through his Instagram and fishing for information. It wasn’t like Angel Dust to not update his feed every couple of hours but currently the feed was irritatingly dry of juicy gossip or teasing shots. He closed the app and tried his news app instead. He’d had a hit alert for anything Angel Dust related ever since they broke up but, just like Instagram, the app didn’t yield anything he hadn’t already seen, just articles skirting around this ‘Will they? Won’t they?’ bullshit that he seemed to be carrying on with that jazz singer he was touring with. 

He’d been pissed when Val had made him break it off with Angel Dust. Not because he actually liked the dumb slut, Christ no, but because being on his arm had made him the babe of the tabloids with hits every second on the ‘gram and constantly trending on twitter. Right now he wasn’t even gracing the top 50 hashtags on any of the social networking sites and it was really grinding his gears. Stats were _important_. If you weren’t trending, then you didn’t exist in this world, and if you didn’t exist? Then you could kiss all your sponsorships and deals goodbye. 

With an annoyed sigh he put his phone down on the table and dug around in his jacket for some cigarettes. Officially, he had quit smoking when he’d ended it with Angel. Unofficially, he still managed to get through a pack in a week or so with his vape to fill in the gaps. Angel Dust might be able to ride by on a coke addled joy train, but his agent had told him the addict look was no longer in vogue so it was bye bye cigarettes and hello cherry scented vape when the cameras were on him. 

He took a long drag and stared at the smoke trailing up from the cigarette, bitterly wishing he could just lose himself in oblivion. It was better than being a nobody that was for damn sure. Even collaborating with Velvet, this decade’s answer to Madonna and Britney Spears combined, hadn’t done anything for his ratings. 

His self-indulgent moping was interrupted by a sharp knock on his door. He quickly stubbed out the cigarette and discarded the evidence. The suite was strictly non-smoking and he didn’t fancy explaining a fine to his agent if this was room service coming to call. 

“Just a second,” he drawled, popping in some gum to freshen his breath and checking his hair in the mirror. It was perfect, as always, the practically solid hold of the gel locking each strand in place in the perfect coif. Always look your best, you never know when you’ll see a camera. That was rule number one. Actually it was rule number two after always make sure you’ll see a camera, but still. 

“Yo, what do you want?” He answered the door and was surprised to see Valentino standing there, dressed in his customary loud red suit with zebra print cuffs, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Val? What are you doing here?” 

“Voxxy, baby, lovely to see you too,” Val grinned, all sharp teeth and cheap cologne as he bent to give Vox a kiss on both cheeks before pushing past him into the suite. “Nice set up you got here, you’re recording in the studio, right?” 

“Yeah, you know my new album is dropping soon,” Vox nodded. Of course Val knew, he’d gone and arranged the whole thing, after all. 

“You been to see Angel recently?” The man interrupted, cutting straight to the chase and making himself at home on the sofa. He spied the half empty packet of cigarettes on the table and grinned. “Oh, Voxxy, you’re gonna mess up that pretty voice of yours if you keep smoking that shit. Lilith told you to stick to vapes.” 

“Fuck you,” Vox scoffed, picking up the pack and putting it safely in his jacket once more. “And no, I haven’t seen Angel. Why the fuck would I? That ship has well and truly sailed and sunk. You got your ratings and I got mine, I don’t want jack shit to do with that dumb whore anymore.” 

“Yeah, but your ratings aint been so good in the last couple of months have they?” Val asked smoothly, crossing his legs and leaning back on the cushions like a king. “Even when Angel socked you one with that sweet piece of ass you had on your arm he was the one getting all the attention, you were just ‘the ex’. Stings, huh?” 

“You come here to insult me or do you have a point?” Vox asked, folding his arms and scowling at Val from the doorway, not closing it in case he had to tell the guy to get the hell out. 

“I’m just coming at you with another business deal, Vox,” Val grinned. “Pour us a drink from that mini bar over there. You know what I like. We’ll have a drink, and a nice chat. Trust me, you’ll like what I’m gonna say.” 

In spite of his skeptisism, Vox was curious. He closed the door to the room and made his way over to the mini bar, taking a bottle of whisky out and pouring them two glasses with a couple of cubes of ice. He placed them both down on the low table and seated himself next to Val, still frowning, but less so with the offer of something dangling to catch his attention. He was weak, he fucking knew that. He spat the gum into the trash with zero regard for how it looked and levelled his gaze with Valentino. This had better be good. 

“Go on, hit me,” He said dryly, picking up the glass and politely clinking it against Val’s when the other man held his own up. 

“You’ve seen this jazz guy from the bayou that Angel is sniffing around at the moment, right?” Val asked, taking a sip of the whisky and humming in approval. He should book Angel in at this place sometimes, they had good drink. 

“Yeah, pretty hard to miss all the fangirls oohing over it all,” Vox rolled his eyes. “What’s that got to do with me?” 

“Well, if you’ve seen it, then you’ve also seen that it’s not really having the buzz we wanted it to have,” Val explained. “Sex sells and that Alastor guy is about as sexy as a nun in confession.” 

“What, really? You mean all the middle aged housewives aren’t getting their granny panties in a twist over a few pansies sharing stolen kisses backstage?” Vox rolled his eyes sarcastically. “I wonder why the fuck not.” 

“Yeah, yeah, no need to be a dick about it,” Val scoffed. “We thought it would be a good angle, you know, seduction of the innocent and all that? We thought people would lap up some straight laced jazz singer getting down with someone like Angel would get people talking but it hasn’t. A couple of teenagers sharing the pictures just isn’t cutting it. That’s why I’m here. People loved you two, the fights and the drama, the ‘gram really lapped it up and all the papers were singing about it every time you both stepped out the fucking door. Your break up was perfect, but your make up will be stellar. People love a big reunion, they eat up that shit.” 

“Wait, hold on,” Vox held up his hand, the one not tightly gripping the glass of whisky damn near tight enough to shatter it. “You want me to _get back together_ with the crazy bitch? No fucking way. I did my time. I did two years with that whiney bitch, the sex aint good enough for me to put up with that crap. Not for all the tea in china.” 

“Come on, think about it, your act will get more exposure and your little electro synth album might actually sell a couple more million,” Val coaxed. “You know if you ride with me I can get you all the exposure you want. Your sales went right up last time, I can do that again for you.” 

“Fuck’s sake, Val, I don’t want that,” Vox sighed in exasperation. “You know I don’t! Fuck, this music gig was meant to just be a foot in the door. I can’t even fucking carry a tune without that voice filter over my mic. I want a TV gig! You said last time dating that slut would get me somewhere.” 

“Babe, please, I got you loads of guest slots. You were on all those talk shows and game shows. Hell, you came 3rd in _I’m a celebrity, get me out of here!_ remember? That aint nothing.” 

“Oh, yeah, eating kangaroo bollocks in the middle of the jungle is really high end television,” Vox snorted. “Piss off. You know what I mean. I don’t want to be a TV guest. I want _my_ show. 6pm, Saturday night! I want to be the one with guests, not some guy standing behind a buzzer or being interviewed. Real stuff! I want to be the one behind the god damn mic for once.” 

Val sighed and took another sip of his drink, swirling the ice around his glass and contemplating the situation. Angel wasn’t getting the media attention he needed him to have, he couldn’t deny that. He’d backed the wrong horse in Alastor and lost his media cash cow when he’d dropped Vox. He didn’t like to grovel or beg, that nonsense was beneath him, but he needed Vox on side so was prepared to relent a little and meet him half way. 

“Look, how about this,” He said steadily. “I get Al to dump Angel, and you swoop in to pick up the pieces. Then, when you’re all loved up and swooning over each other again we’ll see about that Saturday night slot.” 

“Let me think about it.” 

“Ok. But don’t take too long. Offers like this aint gonna come round many more times,” Val told him. 

o0o

Vox tried. He really did. Val sent him over a list of instructions to pave the way for their little scheme and he followed them to the letter, posting maudlin statuses on facebook about break ups and broken hearts, sharing songs about missing your ex, that sort of thing. His feed was flooded with sympathetic fans, some saying Angel was crazy for not chasing him after the break up, but more than a few die hard Angel supporters seemed to be singing a different tune. He lost count of the amount of bitchy comments he got about it being his fault and how he deserved to be alone for hurting their precious Angel the way he had. 

He’d turned off his social media after that. After a stupid attempt to meet Angel in his room during the tour had ended in him being locked outside with no way to call for help for hours on end he was almost done. Not to mention that Alastor guy had socked him in the face, in front of a whole room full of people, and Val wouldn’t even let him press charges! Even with the two of them now apparently broken up, Angel wasn’t taking the bait. His manager had told him that he had a plan, that it would all sort its self out and not to worry. He was starting to get sick of acting like some love sick puppy chasing the pop star around and he was going to tell Val tonight. 

“S’up, Vox?” Val greeted when he answered the door at the appointed time to let the man in. He closed the door behind him and leant against the frame. 

“Look, Valentino,” Vox started, using his full name for emphasis. “This bit, it aint working out. Angel is too mad at me.”

“Nah, you just aint trying hard enough,” Val told him, dropping a carrier bag down on the sofa and turning to look at the wannabe talk show host with a critical look in his eye. “You gotta really ramp up the soppy shit. It’s his last show on the tour tonight, and I want to end it with a bang.” 

“I told you, it’s not-“ Vox began, but was cut off by a sudden burst of speed from the man opposite as he bolted across the room and took him tightly by the throat, squeezing threateningly as the singer’s eyes bulged in fright. 

“Voxxy…. Honey… you’re not listening very good,” Val purred, looking down at the man beneath him, a cruel glint shining in his eyes. “So I’ll spell it out for ya. You’re gonna fill your goddamn Instagram feed with photos of you and Angel after I leave and then you’re gonna go to the arena with a big old bunch of flowers and meet him in his dressing room. Then,” he lowered his voice, squeezing once more for emphasis and grinning when Vox spluttered, “then you’re gonna both get coked off your little faces and make a big old scene at the after party showing just how happy you are to be back with the guy you love.” He let go and took a step back. “Capeche?” 

Vox coughed in relief and brought his hand up to his throat, glaring at Val. “Yeah, got it,” he said weakly. He made some distance between them and looked at the bag his manager had brought with him. “What’s this shit?” he asked, clearing his throat again. 

“One of Angel’s sweaters. I want you to post some sappy crap about how you saved it cos’ it smelt like him or something and that you miss falling asleep next to him,” Val informed him. 

Vox snorted and pulled out the pink sweater, a glittery image of a cartoon pig emblazed on the chest. “No fucking way.” 

“Think of the TV show, Vox,” Val smiled, patting him on the cheek. “The show ends at 10.30pm. Go do something with your hair and make sure you’re on time.” 

With that said, the man blew him a sarcastic little kiss and let himself out, leaving Vox to stare down at the pink item of clothing in his hand. 

“Just think of the TV show,” he muttered to himself, slipping the sweater over his head and making his way to the bedroom to take perfectly angled selfies curled up on the bed. 

“Just think of the TV show…”

**Author's Note:**

> Well there we go! Please all make sure to go and read the fic this is based on if you haven't already! Trust me it's a roller coaster of feels


End file.
